


Shuffling Madness (No Way to Slow Down)

by Mytay



Series: Trouble's Making Everything All Right [4]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Canon Divergence, Explosions, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pining Keith (Voltron), Slow Burn, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-01
Updated: 2017-04-01
Packaged: 2018-10-13 08:13:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10509828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mytay/pseuds/Mytay
Summary: These spies were fast — the Red and Blue Paladins were surrounded before they had raised their weapons, and when Keith shifted his weight, trying to quickly decide if it was worth the risk, he was immediately set upon by two Galra, one of which pinned him to the ground while the other raised up a heavy gun, bringing it down onto his head.The last thing he heard was Lance frantically shouting his name.They were taken so quickly that Lance and Keith couldn’t even put up a real fight. They succeed in defeating their Galra captors, but their victory comes at the cost of crashing onto a planet populated by violent, remorseless criminals.Or, the wretched beginning of Lance and Keith, Space Cowboy Mercenaries, and the possible end of the Red and Blue Paladins of Voltron.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Čeština available: [Supící šílenství (není, jak zastavit)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12453288) by [Enikawa_Moriko](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enikawa_Moriko/pseuds/Enikawa_Moriko)



> Title taken from [_Locomotive Breath_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bNCT6pA5I9A) by Jethro Tull. Many thanks to **Brame** for an idea that I used in this installment — proper credit given in the endnotes, for the sake of spoilers. Thanks so much, dear! *all the hugs*
> 
> Considering that I’m writing this in a weird order, you don’t need to read previous parts to understand what’s happening here :)
> 
>  **Edit Aug. 31/2017:** There is some fabulous art for this fic now, and I've linked it in the endnotes as it contains spoilers for the story itself — thank you so, so much **linipik**!
> 
>  **Warning:** More violence than in previous stories, with more description. Also more pain. And pining.

******

 

“Me and Keith can do this!” Lance eagerly waved his hand straight up in the air. “Oh man, do you see that water down there! Crystal clear and just ready for someone to cannonball straight into —”

 

“It’s a reconnaissance mission, not a beach vacation,” Keith objected, holding back an eye roll by sheer force of will.

 

“It’s an unpopulated planet, all we’ll be doing is poking through trees and when we finish with that — swim time!” Lance clapped his hands, rubbing his palms together with glee. “And don’t think you’re sitting that out, Red. If I gotta strip you down myself —”

 

“Nope, nuh-uh, stopping you right there,” Pidge interrupted, a finger pointing towards the Blue Paladin. 

 

“Keith needs to chill, and what better way than a cool dip?” Lance asked, eyes wide — the picture of innocence.

 

Keith was grateful to Pidge. Infinitely grateful, in fact, because if Lance had continued that line of thought, Keith was going to have to throw something, or hide behind Coran, because he would not be able to control the blush. And Lance, _the jerk_ , knew it perfectly damn well.

 

When Keith glared at the Blue Paladin, he just grinned and winked. That unbelievable _jackass._

 

“No more flirting during briefings,” Allura cut in, getting Keith to blush anyway, and Lance to shoot him finger guns.

 

Sometimes, Keith hated this _thing_ between him and Lance. But then again, he couldn’t seem to stop himself from taking shots at Lance, at reciprocating when Lance poked first … It was all Keith's own doing in the end.

 

And it was his choice to do nothing about it.

 

“Pidge, is there anything useful coming up on your scans?” Shiro asked while giving Keith a sympathetic smile.

 

“Not really? This planet is an ideal staging crowd into the Yujinko and Ea’Pralin systems, but there’s no sentient life on here, as far as I can tell. Your star charts don’t have it listed under anything but a number designation, which I take to mean it wasn’t populated ten thousand years ago either?”

 

“That seems to be the case.” Allura stared at the galaxy map, her head tilted to one side. “It is a valuable position and the Yujin have stated their willingness to plant a fleet here to offset any potential Galra incursion. We’ll definitely send a pair of you down for a quick walkabout —”

 

Lance’s hand shot up again. “Please, please, let me and Keith do this? If Grumpy isn’t up for it, then Hunk and me? Pidge, _chiquita,_ you wouldn’t mind a swim, right? Somebody, please, I am dying here.”

 

Hunk shook his head. “Sorry, man, Yellow needs some serious maintenance, and I really don’t want to put it off for any longer.”

 

Pidge pushed her glasses up her nose. “Coran and I have a new tracking system we’ve got to test out — we’re coordinating with the Olkari in a few doboshes _._ ”

 

The Blue Paladin actually _whimpered,_ and that was it for Keith (he saw Shiro about to open his mouth out of the corner of his eye, but he pretended otherwise).

 

“Holy crap, Lance, fine, we’ll go!” Keith gave in, shooting Lance a fierce scowl … Which he had to fight to keep on his face as Lance shot him a delighted smile, so bright and happy that it warmed Keith from head to toe. 

 

******

 

“We’re done now, right? Right? There’s nothing here other than alien monkeys and alien insects, and please, Keith, _look at how pretty the water is.”_

 

Keith’s sigh was so loud it startled several of the aforementioned alien monkeys — they chittered at him, shaking their long, dark pink ears, sticking out short, light blue tongues. He watched them as they scurried up the trunks of the trees, disappearing into the canopy.

 

“Fine, Lance,” Keith conceded at last, removing his helmet. The air was breathable, smelling faintly of fruit — rotting and sweet both. He wrinkled his nose, but decided to keep the helmet off.

 

Lance followed suit, cheering and winking at Keith. “I didn’t bring a swim suit, so …” He waggled his eyebrows.

 

“Our flight-suits will do,” Keith said firmly. And he did not blush, which was great, but he did follow up his statement with, “Which is a shame, I know, but we’ll both live with the disappointment.”

 

Lance’s head jerked in his direction, his blue eyes narrowing. Keith looked away. He slipped up like that often, and Lance … Lance had been good enough to not call him on it, not really. But since Keith did awkwardly trip over his feelings many times, the Blue Paladin took those slip-ups as his cue to broadcast his own desires to the entire universe.

 

Keith complained frequently and argued with him constantly, but he never told Lance to stop for good. Because Keith was too damn weak.

 

The Blue Paladin walked over now, taking Keith’s helmet and placing it alongside his own on a nearby fallen tree. “Okay, man, this lake has nothing that is poisonous to us, as far as my scans show, and if I’m interpreting the mumbo jumbo right, the worst that’ll happen is we’ll turn purple for a bit? Which, hey, kinda cool for you, right? Getting in touch with your inner Galra —”

 

Keith flipped Lance off, but his mouth was twitching into a smile. “Wow, you’re not worried about your complexion?”

 

“I will exfoliate three times a day if it means getting even just a small taste of beach side fun,” Lance declared.

 

Keith was considering shoving Lance into the lake, armour and all, when something strange shimmered in his peripheral vision — nearly simultaneously paired with a screech of warning from the monkeys that were apparently lingering in the branches above their heads.

 

He whipped around, unsheathing his bayard — Lance was a split second behind him in reacting.

 

They were both too slow.

 

The Galra had been _cloaked,_ using technology Keith had _never_ seen from them (they hadn’t shown up on _any scans,_ not the Castle’s, and clearly not the more in-depth, close-range programs Keith and Lance had been utilizing).

 

These spies were fast — the Red and Blue Paladins were surrounded before they had raised their weapons, and when Keith shifted his weight, trying to quickly decide if it was worth the risk, he was immediately set upon by two Galra, one of which pinned him to the ground, while the other raised up a heavy gun, bringing it down onto Keith's head.

 

The last thing he heard was Lance frantically shouting his name.

 

******

 

“Do you want us alive or not, assholes? _Make sure he’s alive, damn it._ ”

 

“He’s been breathing,” came a voice Keith didn’t recognize.

 

He wasn’t fully awake, but that strange, harsh speech dismissed any fleeting, drowsy thoughts of being in his own bed. Then his body slowly came to life with a fierce pounding in his head. He groaned, his lids squeezing more tightly shut.

 

“Yeah, breathing doesn’t mean _not going to die,_ it just means _not dead yet._ Let me have a look — two Paladins are better for your rep than one, right?”

 

“Let him check on the Red one — his constant chattering is grating my nerves. And we do wish to provide Command with both of them _relatively_ intact.”

 

“Well, thank you ever so much, _Jethor._ ”

 

A distinctly sharp sound — a slap? “You were not given permission to address the captain, boy.”

 

Lance (his voice finally registered in Keith's brain — Keith knew that voice better than his own some days) laughed humourlessly. “Right, because a Paladin of Voltron is likely to respect the Galra chain of command.”

 

Keith opened his eyes at last, wincing at the bright lights directly above him. Now that he could see, the pain seemed worse. He turned his head, and there was Lance kneeling next to him, his hands restrained behind his back. Keith gave a tug and realized his own were also cuffed behind him — one of his arms had gone numb. He tried to turn to relieve that shoulder, and when he did, the rush of blood gave him a vicious sensation of pins and needles.

 

“Hey, Keith, I need you to look at me, right over here,” Lance said.

 

Keith hadn’t realized he’d squeezed his eyes shut again — his lids fluttered open, and Lance’s face was close to his, staring hard.

 

“Your eyes look like they’re tracking all right, and your pupils are responding to the light. What colour is your Lion?”

 

Keith gave him a look, but answered regardless, “Red. Yours is Blue. We live on the Castle of Lions. Don’t ask me the date, I have no freaking idea.”

 

Lance grinned. “Good. That’s about all I can check right now, I think.” He leaned back, glaring up at their captors. “Any medical attention where we’re heading?”

 

“The prisons do a very good job of keeping their inmates alive — at least, those that survive the arenas.”

 

 _Shiro._ Keith ached for entirely different reasons now, missing Shiro, missing the rest of their team, realizing that he and Lance would be facing the same grim fate of their Black Paladin leader. But at least they were together — the two of them could come up with _something_ …

 

And it looked like maybe Lance already had.

 

The way he was staring into Keith’s eyes, a minute gesture with an eyebrow towards one of the guards standing over them … Keith rolled his eyes back, pretending to be going in and out of consciousness, and through his half-closed lids he saw that the guard was barely looking at them, instead absorbed in examining their bayards.

 

 _Morons_.

 

Then again, the spies had captured Keith and Lance fairly easily, and so these Galra probably did not consider them too much of a threat. But even though he and Lance were both cuffed, they weren’t tied to anything or rendered completely immobile.

 

_Big mistake._

 

Keith focused back on Lance, who smiled brightly, saying, “I know, sorry. Your arms must be killing you. Good thing I was on the gymnastics team back home. This type of positioning doesn’t hurt that much.”

 

Lance had never been on any kind of gymnastics anything, but if Keith was reading him right, what he was implying was that he was _flexible._ As in, possibly flexible enough to get his cuffed hands out in front of him.

 

He sat up slowly, Lance watching him closely as he did so.

 

Keith finally absorbed all of their surroundings — this ship was _tiny._ It seemed to only be comprised of two areas: the pilot’s zone, and then the small cargo hold, with several posts for restraining people in the centre (evident by the metal cuffs hanging from them).

 

He tried to reach out to Red — to his partner, _his Lion_ — but while he could feel their connection, while he could feel her straining for him, it was clear that this distance might actually be too great … Which meant that he and Lance were really, _really_ far from their friends.

 

There were seven Galra total, including the Captain and whoever was piloting. These were not the spies who had captured them; Keith could tell based on the markings of their armour — these were Galra hunters and prison guards. And this tiny ship was a prisoner transport. His mind, for however hazy it was, started going through everything he could remember about Galra ships — transport ships had recently been equipped with wormhole technology, and they had limited external weapons, since speed and stealth were their primary defenses.

 

But what really mattered, what Keith noted with narrowed eyes, was the clear view into the pilot’s area — a door that was left open as Captain Jethor spoke with the Galra at the helm.

 

“Hey!” Lance called to the guard holding their bayards. “Careful — if you shoot yourself in the face … Actually, wait, never mind, as you were.”

 

“You’re asking for pain, Paladin,” one of the soldiers growled.

 

“Druzen!” barked the Captain. “Leave him! When we arrive at the prison, he will be silenced by the horrors within.”

 

“Wow, overdramatic much?” Lance muttered to Keith, who snorted, incurring more wrathful glares.

 

Lance fell back next to the Red Paladin. “I don’t know exactly how we ended up here, or, uh, where _here_ is. They knocked me out after you. I came to a couple of times, though — those guys who captured us, I think they jumped around a million different galaxies before we were handed off to these bozos … so I can’t reach Blue. Can you …”

 

Keith shook his head.

 

Lance sighed. “Great. Well. Hard way, it is.” His arms were sliding beneath him.

 

He was going to make his move soon. Keith had to be ready. He looked over to the Galra prison guard holding their bayards. He seemed unconcerned. In fact, none of the Galra appeared to be impressed by them, and Keith couldn’t fault the initial assumption that they were basic prey. But these soldiers should have known better. The Paladins of Voltron had been a thorn in the side of the Galra Empire for over two years now.

 

And Keith intended to be an even bigger pain in the ass right now.

 

He moved fast.

 

The guard that had been studying their bayards went down — Keith had shattered his kneecap with one well-placed, brutal blow to the side of it. The wrecked howl the Galra let loose drew everyone’s stares, put hands on weapons, but Keith already had his feet around the blue bayard. He swung up, tossing it over his own head to Lance, who had gotten his hands around to his front. The Blue Paladin caught his weapon, letting loose a barrage of rifle fire nearly instantly.

 

The Galra scattered, cursing and shouting, the Captain screaming that his crew, “ _Knock them out, I don’t care if you_ —”

 

What the Captain didn’t care about didn’t matter to Keith; he was focused on grabbing his bayard, activating it through his cuffs, hoping like hell he didn’t end up stabbing himself in the back. Thankfully, a second later, the cuffs came off, and with his bayard in hand, he charged at the cockpit. The Captain whipped out a long blade to meet Keith’s.

 

The soldiers swung around to defend their leader. Lance had backed himself up into a corner, ducking behind a lone crate of supplies. “Keith!”

 

Keith ducked as Lance fired — but the Captain was quick, dodging the shot.

 

The pilot did not. He slumped over the controls, and everything spun wildly.

 

Keith couldn’t get a grip on anything, his vision blurring reddish purple. His stomach rolled, he was yelling for Lance, he thought, but maybe he was just screaming wordlessly.

 

Oddly enough, he knew when they fell from the wormhole — the sensation of entering a planet’s atmosphere familiar to him, but the speed too great. He managed to catch onto a flash of white and blue armour, the earth-shattering impact of ship meeting land occurring just as his hand wrapped around Lance’s arm, while darkness exploded in and around him.

 

******

 

Heat. Searing, painful heat. Keith opened his eyes, blinking, wincing — something was dripping into them … He lifted a hand (he could lift _this_ hand, could he lift his other … _yes_ ), and swiped at his face. He was able to make out, in the dim light of an evening sky, the red on his fingers. On the heels of that realization came the pain.

 

But despite the throbbing in his head, he tested out his legs next, and found that while aching, they were functioning.

 

Keith sat up slowly, realizing he was sprawled on top of the corpse of a Galra soldier. There was no doubt he was dead. His neck was twisted at an unnatural angle, and no breath escaped him.

 

A soft moan.

 

Keith turned quickly, hissing as his muscles burned, and there was Lance, right next to him … and his entire right arm a bloody mess. Keith could not make out what was wrong, or how badly it had gone wrong, but all he knew was that just because one Galra was dead, did not mean the others were as well. He was in no state to fight _anyone,_ and neither was Lance, so they had to go _right now_.

 

He leaned over Lance, trying to figure out if his neck was broken, if there was anything Keith was about to make worse by attempting to move him. As he did, he caught sight of Lance’s bayard, half under a slab of metal. He reached over the Blue Paladin, paying close attention to those wheezing, uneven breaths, and grabbed the weapon, reattaching it to Lance’s armour. He then slipped his arms around Lance’s chest, bringing him up to a seated position — and there was Keith’s bayard. He attached that to his own armour, and then began the slow, agonizing process of trying to stand with Lance in his arms.

 

The Blue Paladin was actually a little lighter than Keith himself, despite being taller — he wasn’t being arrogant, he simply had more muscle mass than Lance — so Keith could carry him easily on a good day.

 

This was not a good day.

 

The ship had essentially been ripped in half upon crashing. Miraculously, neither he nor Lance had been flung from it, but as Keith stepped out, he could see a couple of the Galra soldiers who had not faired so well, little more than jagged, hardly recognizable bags of flesh now.

 

He stumbled out into a desert scape; there were actual _cacti,_ not unlike the ones back on Earth — giant bush-like plants, and single trunks, all of them a vibrant turquoise with brilliant emerald green streaks. Evening was shifting to night, and Keith had no idea what the hell to do other than get far away from this ship and the Galra.

 

He could hear a moan that wasn’t Lance. Rustling from the wreckage behind him.

 

Then the sound of engines, and he was running as far from everything as possible, Lance groaning in his arms.

 

He ran out of breath all too soon, but found a decently sized rock, right next to a giant bush cactus, and he collapsed behind it. He set Lance down gently, and then grabbed his rifle. If he had to defend himself, shooting would be the better option — he could take out more enemies, more quickly and at a distance.

 

Carefully peeking out from around the side of the rock, between the thick limbs of the cactus, Keith watched as Captain Jethor fell out of the wrecked ship, just as a pair of landspeeders pulled up.

 

So this planet was populated. And it did have at least Earth-level technology. He filed that away, feeling hope flare up in his chest. Maybe they had the kind of communication devices that would allow Lance and Keith to reach out to the Castle.

 

“Keith?” Lance whispered.

 

He turned away as the landspeeders came to a stop, glancing towards the now lucid Blue Paladin; the relief Keith felt sent a wash of goosebumps across his skin. Lance struggled to sit up, shifting in closer as he did so. His eyes were bleary.

 

“Keith? Did we … Where are we?”

 

“I don’t know,” he said in as low a voice as possible. “But someone’s here, and I’m trying to see if they’re friendly or not.”

 

Lance's brow furrowed in thought, and then he pressed himself between Keith and the rock, looking around it towards the ship. Keith leaned over him, his chin resting on Lance’s sweaty hair.

 

The aliens stepping out of the landspeeders weren’t all the same species (Keith felt another surge of hope — different aliens meant at least interplanetary travel, and that was possibly beyond Earth tech if they had wormhole abilities, too).

 

They were all huge and brutish looking — two of them had scales, one dark red, the other more orange. One alien was fairly human-looking except for the blue skin, dark green hair, and the sharp claws on his large feet and hands.

 

The last alien was an incredibly tall, slender looking male, his skin leathery and a rich emerald colour, his gray hair pulled back in a low bun, and his eyes set very high on his face. The entire group was dressed in well-worn clothes, leather or soft fabric, thick coats or long dusters, but this towering alien — he had a sleek chest plate and vambraces, and his pants were formfitting, tucked into knee-high boots. Far more elegant and put-together.

 

And he had a pair of long knives sheathed at his hips.

 

He sniffed the air with a prominent, sharp-looking nose, coming around the ship to face the Galra captain directly.

 

“Interesting.” His voice had a sibilant, serene quality. “Never seen your kind around here. And your ship penetrated the shields? That’s even more interesting.”

 

_Shields? There were shields around this planet? Protection he and Lance would have to bypass?_

Captain Jethor sat up, but apparently he couldn’t stand … And Keith could see why — one of his legs looked like it had been _flattened,_ and the other was twisted completely the wrong way from the knee down.

 

“Get back, primitive, before the might of the —”

 

“Ah, less interesting now.” Without hesitation, without _a flinch,_ he brought his boot down on Captain Jethor’s already destroyed knee.

 

The scream the Galra let out echoed around the desert. Lance jerked, almost head-butting Keith in the chin. Keith swallowed down whatever noise he’d been about to make. Neither one of them looked away.

 

“Unless there’s more of you waiting to attack, please refrain from issuing threats,” the alien said. “Now, where did your ship come from and how did it get through the shields?”

 

“Your … your shields are nothing compared to our technology … Clearly you haven’t … reached our —”

 

“I take it you’re not a scientist or engineer, then?” The alien sounded mildly annoyed. “So you wouldn’t be able to answer my second question. My first?”

 

His booted foot, which had never lifted from the Galra’s knee, now _ground down,_ a damp, pulpy _crunch_ reaching Lance and Keith. Lance finally had to pull away — he slid back behind the rock, his face pale and his eyes squeezed shut. Keith kept his gaze on the alien. He committed the face to memory. For however long he and Lance were going to be here, they were staying _the hell away_ from whoever this was.

 

Captain Jethor barely made a noise, though it looked as though he ground his teeth into dust in order to keep silent. When the alien stopped his torture, the Captain spoke with barely a waver.

 

“I am of the Galra Empire … what is this place?”

 

“It was never given a name. A number designation, perhaps, but no one who lives here remembers it. Or cares. Galra Empire.” The alien removed his boot from the now utterly demolished knee. “Not within this system. Or even this galaxy, as far as I last heard. Delstru, have you heard of it?”

 

The alien with orange scales shook her head. “No. Jacomir didn’t have any records of that from what I know. But I’ve only ever hacked their transport codes, not their star charts.”

 

“Are there more of you coming?” He turned back to the Captain, and Jethor glanced towards the ship.

 

The alien followed his gaze. “Ah, so perhaps there’s a beacon or distress call. And if your ship can penetrate our shields, then maybe —”

 

As he spoke, two Galra emerged, charging, their weapons out and fierce roaring penetrating the still night. The aliens of this world whipped out guns that definitely reminded Keith of Earth — pistols, rifles, and one shotgun. The Galra were strong, but injured. They managed to knock the red-scaled alien to the ground, stabbing him in the shoulder, but the tall alien, he sliced through one Galra nearly simultaneously. His blade was serrated — it didn’t so much as cut through that Galra’s throat as _tear it out._ The next Galra didn’t die — instead, the alien blocked an attempt to decapitate him with one blade, while the other stabbed into the Galra’s abdomen and then _stayed there._

The Galra gurgled, his blade dropping, and he tried to claw at the alien, but he was batted away as though he were a small child. The alien spoke to Captain Jethor as if their conversation had never been interrupted. “Your ship could communicate beyond the shield …”

 

“I will not allow our technology to fall into the hands of _savages_ like you,” Captain Jethor spat out. “We Galra conquer, but this world, I can see it isn’t worthy of anything other than _destruction._ But you will be spared for a short while … The ship will be destroyed and no one will know… I’ve already pressed the self-destruct sequence.” He indicated his belt, where some secret device was likely hidden.

 

Keith had a brief moment of panic, wondering if he and Lance needed to run, but he knew that he couldn’t do anything as long as these other threats were present. And he didn’t think he could run with Lance in his arms, not in either of their current states.

 

Suddenly, Captain Jethor appeared to remember his captives — his eyes widened and darted towards the bowels of the ship. He may have realized that Keith and Lance had escaped because he said, “Where … _Paladins …_ ”

 

Before he could speak further, the alien disembowelled the Galra soldier, like an afterthought, like it was something _he did every day._ Keith finally gave in, closing his eyes before he could see entrails spill out.

 

When he heard the thump of the Galra hitting the ground, he opened them again to see Captain Jethor yelling curses and trying to grab a blade, make one last attempt on the alien’s life. But this creature wasn’t interested in talking anymore. He stabbed Captain Jethor clean through the skull, and ordered his people, “Get back to the hoverspeeders _now._ ”

 

They all jumped into their vehicles and took off, and Keith knew they had no time, so he just whipped back around the rock, clutching Lance to him, trying to shield him as much as possible.

 

The explosion deafened him, and debris flung high into the sky, over their heads, far out into the desert. But once the ground stopped shaking beneath them, and once his hearing came back with a painful ringing, Keith sprung into action. He stared out around the rock, making sure no one was near them — and when it was clear they were alone, he swept Lance into his arms, lifting him even as his back muscles were wracked with spasms, as his thighs and arms demanded he _stop this right now._

“Keith,” Lance protested weakly. “Dude, you’re going to —”

 

“Shut up, we have no —”

 

“I can walk, put me the hell down, you stubborn —”

 

Keith was in danger of dropping the Blue Paladin, so he had no choice but to give in. Lance wobbled, but he stayed upright. Keith made sure to keep one arm around Lance’s waist, and Lance kept one of his around Keith’s neck.

 

“There’s … a mountain over there, I think I can see it,” Keith said, indicating a huge looming shadow, darker than the night sky, blotting out the stars. “Maybe there’s somewhere we can hide.”

 

“Hide, yes, please.” Lance let Keith support his weight as they walked. “What the hell even _is this place_?”

 

“I don’t know. I just know we can’t stay here. The others will find us.” He spoke with certainty, but he had no idea _when_ or _how_ the rest of their team would hunt them down. And he had no clue if he and Lance could hold out if it wasn’t _soon._

“Keith, cave!” Lance said, trying to point with his injured arm, wincing as he did so.

 

Keith looked in the direction Lance was pointing, spotting a dark, cavernous opening, partially hidden by a cactus. He also saw that there were small objects stuck around the entrance. As they got closer, he realized they were _rain catchers._ Somebody had lived — or _was living_ — in this cave.

 

“Lance, I’m going to check it out, okay?” he whispered into the Blue Paladin’s ear. “Can you wait here?”

 

“Pretty much all I _can_ do,” Lance replied, sounding worried. “Keith, don’t go too far, and if you see anybody … Come running back out here, I’ll …” Lance activated his rifle. “I’ll take care of it.”

 

“Right.” Keith wrestled back the sudden urge to press a kiss to Lance’s temple as he left him leaning against a wall, just to the right of the cave opening.

 

He had out his sword and shield, ignoring the dizziness that originated from the pain in his head. He walked in slowly, hitting the back of the cave in almost no time at all. No one was there, and his eyes took in several shapes that looked like boxes, and maybe lanterns. _Idiot, your belt._ Keith activated the flashlight on his utility belt, rolling his eyes at himself. The blue glow lit up the cave — it was big enough to stand upright in, and maybe three metres across. Everything in it was covered in dust and dirt — so no one had been in here for a long while. There were two small crates, hopefully filled with food or first aid supplies, and a dormant fire pit.

 

He sheathed his bayard, walking back out to Lance. “We’re in luck, this is the perfect place to hide.”

 

“I think that’s about all the good luck we have,” Lance huffed out. “Man, I need … a healing pod, but doubt this place has any of those.”

 

“You’ll be fine,” Keith said, draping Lance’s uninjured arm around his neck. “You’ve had worse and survived.”

 

“Um, yeah, with _a healing pod._ We don’t all have an extra robust immune system like you, Mr. Alien-Human-Hybrid.”

 

“Judging by the way you’re running your mouth off, I seriously doubt you’re in any danger.”

 

When they reached the back of the cave, Keith set Lance down on one of the crates, rooting through the other and coming up with a couple of cans of some unidentified meat and a patched-up, sand covered bedroll. He shook out the latter, unfurling it and laying it close to the fire pit.

 

“Right, this is yours,” Keith decided. “Get some of your armour off and let me look at that arm.”

 

He dug around as he listened to Lance obeying his instructions with hardly any complaints except a few soft grumbles. Keith found a couple more cans, and what could possibly be this planet’s version of flint, easy to start a fire with. He tried not to think too hard about what would happen if whoever these things belonged to came back — the aliens on this world seemed to be far from friendly.

 

He shuddered as he flashed back to the cold eyes of the one who had murdered the Galra.

 

“Ready for your kindly ministrations, Nurse Keith,” Lance called out.

 

Keith sighed — he hadn’t found anything even vaguely resembling a health kit, but he had found a canteen, filled with water. He popped the lid and sniffed it. It didn’t smell of anything. He took a cautious sip, and when he tasted nothing, he decided it was probably safe. Safer than dehydrating, at any rate.

 

Lance was down to his flight-suit, still sitting on the crate. Keith knelt down next to him, inspecting the wound. It was deep, and the skin around it inflamed. Keith ripped at the hole in the fabric, enlarging the tear so he could see more clearly. Lance inhaled sharply as he did so. Keith apologized as he poured water over the massive cut, clearing away the blood. Lance hissed and flinched, but he settled down quickly. There wasn’t much else Keith could do.

 

“Just … don’t sleep on that arm. I’ll try and find something clean we can bandage that up with.”

 

“Dude, enough. We … should rest …” Lance eased himself down onto the bedroll, doing his best not to jostle his arm. “It’s dark outside, we have no clue what’s out there … let’s at least wait for daytime before we go looking around for a way out of here.”

 

Keith ignored him, rummaging through the crate Lance was no longer sitting on. Again, a can of food, another couple of canteens (only one of which was full), a large pot, and … A first aid kit. _“Yes!”_ He opened it up eagerly … and found only a few strips of cloth, what might be antiseptic cream, and adhesive bandages.

 

He didn’t feel comfortable using the cloths unless he could boil them in water to disinfect them, and he had no idea what was in the cream.

 

“Keith. Bed.” Lance was mumbling, both sleepy and dazed. Keith hadn’t thought to check him for a concussion, but his own body ached terribly, his limbs heavy and his mind clouding. He would be useless to both himself and Lance unless he got some sleep.

 

There was no second bedroll, so Keith decided to make the most of the dirt floor, clearing off a few stones, piling Lance’s armour to one side, stripping off his own armour to join it, but keeping their bayards close at hand.

 

“Nuh-uh,” Lance murmured. “You’re not sleeping on the … ground … Keith, c’mon … You know … I’ll keep my hands … to myself …”

 

Keith did not blush at this because he was too tired, the adrenaline having faded and leaving him with nothing but a bone-deep exhaustion.

 

Lance pushed himself over, leaving Keith a sliver of space just large enough to accommodate him on his side. And Keith couldn’t argue, not with Lance already more than halfway to unconsciousness, and Keith’s anxiety beating a frantic rhythm deep in his chest. At least this way he could keep a close eye on Lance.

 

He crawled in next to him, putting one hand on Lance’s neck, feeling the thrum of his pulse, the soft exhalations of air — a deep sigh as the last of the tension left the Blue Paladin’s body. Soon after, Keith’s eyes were closed, and all he could hear was a quiet breeze from the strange desert out beyond their cave, and the near silent breathing of one of the most important people in his life.

 

******

 

When Keith woke up the next morning, he was burning.

 

He opened his eyes, recoiling, his body realizing before his brain did — _he_ wasn’t on fire, _Lance_ had a _fever_.

 

Keith jerked upright, his hands reaching out, and before he even made contact, he could feel the heat radiating off of Lance’s skin. Keith immediately threw off the bedroll’s blanket, and stared at the wound on Lance’s arm — red, inflamed. It wasn’t oozing pus, but Lance definitely had _something,_ an infection, an illness, and Keith had _no idea what to do_.

 

He spent most of the day panicking in-between taking care of Lance and trying to find more resources. At the bottom of one of the crates he found a spile, and he considered taking a trip out to find more water. But first he needed to make food — Keith created a fire easily with the flint and what little kindling remained in the pit, and then carefully used the small dagger he kept in his boot to open a can of meat. He would eat it first, wait and see if it was safe for Lance.

 

Lance woke up a few times, but he was delirious, incoherent, rambling in Spanish and English both, but mostly in his mother tongue. Keith used their personal computers, stored on their utility belts, to take Lance’s temperature. The Blue Paladin sat at 40°C.

 

That would be when Keith had the very real realization that Lance could _die._

Lance, breathing and heart beating, wheezing and moaning in his sleep — that could _end._ Keith could sit here and see the moment when he _stopped._ When it all _stopped._ And never started up again. He could sit here and see Lance _stop_ and _grow cold_ and become nothing more than an _empty, still_ …

 

“ _Lance,_ ” Keith whispered, his voice cracking.

 

The sun penetrated the cave — late afternoon slipped in since the opening faced the sunset. The harsh glow hit Lance’s face, causing him to groan and turn away. He barely drank as Keith balanced his head on his lap, tipping the water past cracked, dry lips.

 

The fever heat penetrated Keith’s flight-suit, and Lance’s lids fluttered open, staring up at him with blue eyes that couldn’t focus, and he frowned, asking, “¿ _Dónde ‘stá mamá? … Mamí, duele — te necesito … mamí …”_ And with each cry for his mother, tears escaped, sliding down the sides of his face, towards his ears.

 

Keith had never felt so helpless.

 

“I’m sorry,” he begged. “I’m sorry, Lance, god, I don’t know … I’m going to cook up some more of the meat, okay? I’ll try and mash it up or something, so you can eat it …”

 

Keith kept a narration going — he wasn’t used to talking this much, but with Lance bizarrely silent, he couldn’t seem to help the words from forming, from spilling out to fill the empty space that Lance so effortlessly packed with jokes and rambling and bragging.

 

Lance nearly choked a few times as Keith fed him, but he seemed to be aware enough to swallow. He even managed to down half a canteen of water. Keith let him rest afterwards, and went back to digging through the cave. He had separated out all the food (five more cans remained, and two canteens worth of water), and minimal first aid supplies (as soon as Keith got some more water, he’d boil it and try to clean Lance’s wound), and then he focused on what they had come with.

 

The armour was virtually useless — most of the important pieces were in the helmets, back on the jungle planet that was who knew how far away. The belts had tracking devices, but Keith didn’t have enough technical or engineering knowledge to amplify the signal beyond its current strength. The computers, they still worked, but they picked up nothing — no messaging services. No major search engines. No _network._ Nothing he could access.

 

And if he tried to send a message to Pidge. To Hunk. To Shiro … All the computer would say was _Unable to Complete Transmission._

Keith spoke to Lance again after a too long silence. “Hey, Lance, we gotta go out there for a tick, get you a bathroom break somewhere.”

 

Lance cracked open his eyes, and then shook his head.

 

Keith was already standing, bending over to grip Lance around his ribs, hauling him up as slowly as he could. “Sorry, but I don’t want to have to do this in the middle of the night.” He’d stuck his head out of the cave for a few minutes early on, and found a small alcove not a couple of metres from their makeshift campsite that would do, just barely tucked away from … Well, anyone that might see them, if that mattered.

 

Lance shoved Keith away when he tried to help, slurring his words as he said, “ _Coño,_ Keith, I can … figure … I mean, been doing this since I was two, okay …”

 

And Keith sort of wanted to keep prodding, keep embarrassing him, needling him, if it got him even a hint of Lance without the burden of fever.

 

While standing outside, Keith saw a giant lizard creature watching them from a rock. Its massive claws viciously curved, black in the evening light, and its wide mouth filled with serrated teeth — stained with what might be blood.

 

He tensed up, but the lizard just stared with bulbous white eyes. It seemed … curious, but not curious enough to come closer. And Keith certainly wasn’t going to start anything.

 

Soon, but not soon enough, they were back in that miserable cave. The lizard had dropped from its perch and moved on, in the opposite direction, Keith noted with a tiny bit of relief.

 

Keith stared at Lance’s shivering form and knew there was more he had to do — but when those broken little sobs escaped from between Lance’s lips, he lost any clear line of thinking. He crawled towards Lance, laying down and pulling him against his chest. The fever scorched Keith in the already dry heat of the desert, but he was useless to them both anyway, so what did it matter?

 

He couldn’t see through the tears blurring his vision. Night had fallen. They were both too broken to move right now.

 

“How much more?” Lance muttered, his voice barely more than a rasp of air. “I don’t think I have …”

 

He wasn’t making much sense, spasms of pain wracking his limbs. A few more quiet sobs. Keith closed his eyes as stars he had never seen before shone brightly into the mouth of the cave, on the planet with no name.

 

******

 

A rustle, hardly more than a breeze, jerked Keith out of his slumber. Lance let loose a long breath, one that rattled in chest, but otherwise didn’t stir. Keith blinked himself into full awareness, the bizarre location making sense all too soon.

 

He sat up, staring down at Lance — he was drenched in sweat, even with the sharp drop in temperature of the previous night … He burned — heat emanated from him like a miniature sun. Keith had selfishly stayed close, the chill of the night scarcely touching him … But he knew what this meant. If a fever stayed high enough, for long enough, brain damage was a real danger …

 

He frantically reached for the computer — 40°C. It hadn’t dropped. But it also hadn’t increased.

 

“Lance? … Can you hear me?”

 

Lance’s eyes flickered open, but only halfway. He nodded, swallowing, and said, “Tired. _Agua._ ”

 

“Yeah, hold on.” Keith reached for the canteen, tilting Lance’s head up to help him drink. Almost as soon as he had swallowed a couple of mouthfuls, Lance’s eyes fluttered shut again and he was out.

 

Keith stared for a few more minutes, taking in the even rise and fall of Lance’s chest. And then he stood up, walking over to the pile of armour. He pulled on his own, attached his bayard, and decided now was the time to forage for more food and water — the dusty, half-eaten rations wouldn’t sustain them for much longer.

 

He drifted back over to Lance, even as his mind tried to figure out the best way to plot a path. He knew there was no real GPS system on this planet, but his computer could be used to chart; he’d done it before on uninhabited worlds. He set the cave as the first waypoint, and tucked the computer away — it would chart his path, and hopefully between that and the sun’s positioning, he could find his way back easily.

 

Kneeling down next to Lance, he spoke quietly into the other Paladin’s ear. “I’ll be back soon, okay? Don’t panic if I’m not here when you wake up. I promise to come back.”

 

Lance’s eyes shifted beneath his lids, but he made no sound other than a slowly indrawn breath. Keith checked the gash on his shoulder again — still inflamed. Not exactly reassuring.

 

Without any reason to delay further, he walked out into the sunlight, with the empty canteens tied to his waist, and an empty sack he’d found at the bottom of one of the crates. He left the last, half-full canteen by Lance’s side.

 

The first bit of good news arrived in the way of cacti — they were almost exactly like the ones back on Earth. Keith cut off a few pieces off the most full-looking ones, and stuffed them into the bag he had brought. He could slice them up, maybe squeeze some water out of them later. Closer to the base of the mountain, just to the north of their cave dwelling, were a few bright green trees — and Keith used the spile there with some success. He managed to fill most of the canteens.

 

He never relaxed as he worked, his ears always attuned to the noises around him, his eyes darting up and around every few seconds. He ventured much father out, searching for any kind of animal or fruit tree he could use for food, and focused on another cacti with a strange bright pink fruit. He put a few of those into the bag …

 

A low rumble of a speeder.

 

He instantly ducked behind a large stone formation he had been sticking close to; as he poked his head around the corner, he saw four aliens, all different species.

 

Two of them were clearly prisoners.

 

“Nunthros, you know I’m good for it!!” begged one, a male with scaled skin, dark orange, his eyes huge and violet.

 

“No, Tilin, I don’t. You’ve had your time to pay us back. Didn’t even try to offer us a couple of gems in a show of good faith. If you were actually worth it, we’d keep you alive …” Nunthros trailed off, huge and brawny, a pronounced snout that sneered, four arms that pushed Tilin to the ground.

 

“And if we let you go, let you get away with that …” The other alien held a pistol blaster level with Tilin’s chest. “Well, since you’re worth nothing alive, at least dead you’ll be a message. Free advertising.”

 

The second captive said nothing — Keith couldn’t tell if they were male or female. He only knew that none of these four had been with the terrifying tall alien from before.

 

The armed aliens led the two captives to a cliff’s edge, not far from where Keith was hidden — he crouched further behind his hiding place, holding his breath. When the steps seemed far enough, he ventured a look. Without any warning or countdown, the two aliens’ prisoners (Tilin kept begging, kept insisting that he could get the money, if they just gave him more time, _you’ll see, please!_ ) were shoved to their knees, and laser pistols were pointed at the backs of their heads.

 

Keith didn’t look away when the execution happened. He waited, keeping his breathing slow and even, as the two killers got back in their speeder and took off.

 

And then against his better judgement, Keith walked over to the cliff.

 

But not before a giant lizard — beige scales, large, wickedly arching claws and broad shark-like grin — blazed past him, its mouth slobbering drool onto the dirt. Keith had his sword out, but the creature was uninterested in him.

 

The Red Paladin sucked in a big gulp of dry desert air and approached the edge.

 

The lizard was joined by several others. Like vultures, Keith thought faintly, except they really seemed to like their meat freshly killed. And judging by the amount of bones, of heat-mummified corpses in this gorge, this pale and pathetically small imitation of a Grand Canyon back on Earth, filled with dead of all species, gun blasts and knife wounds … These carrion-eating reptiles had a steady source of food.

 

So the murderous aliens at the crash site — maybe they weren’t the exception.

 

Maybe they were the _rule._

Keith needed to get back to Lance.

 

******

Lance was dying.

 

The fever hadn’t gone down. Even after Keith boiled up the bandages to disinfect them, wrapped the wound up. Even after fresh water and the soft, juicy insides of the cacti. After a few pieces of the fruit that turned out to be very much like an orange — tangy and sweet.

 

Lance was going to die if the fever didn’t drop.

 

And then Keith … Keith was going to lose his mind — when the rest of the team found them, he would be a useless, mute mess of a person.

 

He had picked Lance up, walking towards the mouth of the cave, sitting just inside, and keeping an eye out on the broad expanse of the desert. Lance hardly made any noises any more, except for breaths of air, occasionally uneven or raspy. He had turned in Keith’s embrace once they were both sitting, ending up with his head tucked perfectly under Keith’s chin, his arms hanging listlessly in his lap.

 

After about an hour of this, Keith occupied himself by gazing down to those long, brown fingers, running his hands over them and around them, feeling every scar and callous.

 

_Lance snapped his fingers in Keith’s face. “Dude, you awake?”_

_Keith blinked up at him, frowning. “Yeah? I was just …”_

_“Because you have a bed, you know. You can crash there. These couches aren’t the best for your back, trust me.”_

_Keith sat up, running a hand through his dishevelled hair, his legs stretching out, taking up the length of the couch. “I know, I was just … stargazing, I guess.”_

_Lance cast his eyes towards the wide windows, looking out into the blackness of space, dotted with bright stars — constellations that had no names they knew._

_“Right.” Lance sat down, leaning back against Keith’s thighs. “Looking for something in particular?”_

_“Wouldn’t be able to find it if I was.” Keith imagined somewhere, he had family still. Family that belonged to the alien side of his genetics. But maybe not. Maybe they were gone past finding, too. “Universe is way bigger than we thought.”_

_“But not at the same time? Most people we’ve met do a lot of the same stuff,” Lance said, stretching his arms up and dropping them onto the back of the couch. He gave Keith a small smile before facing the window again. “They have jobs. They have homes. They have families. They …”_

_Keith had been staring at Lance’s profile, feeling comfortable, a touch drowsy — but suddenly he was looking directly into blue eyes, dark, intent, and Lance’s smile was sweeter, even the slightest bit teasing. Which meant that Keith was bracing himself for a joke, for a bit of light mockery, but instead …_

_“We should probably go on a date.”_

_“… Are you serious?” Keith knew his face was red. He could feel the heat spread along his cheeks and up to his ears._

_Lance raised his eyebrows. “You cannot be surprised, man. Like, my flirting is not subtle. I take pride in making my intentions pretty clear.”_

_“Yeah, I know, but I … I figured you were just playing, you weren’t … Lance, we can’t —”_

_“Uh-uh, hold up,” Lance interrupted him, and one of his hands slid down the back of the couch, falling just shy of Keith’s waist. “You’ve never shut down my flirting, true or false?”_

_“True, but —”_

_“Bip, bip, shut it, my turn. You’ve flirted back with me once or twice, Mr. Yeah-I’ll-Take-You-Any-Day-Of-The-Week, true or false?”_

_“You cannot take anything I say while drunk —”_

_“Okay, Mr. Just-Because-You-Have-Pretty-Eyes-Doesn’t-Mean-You’re-Getting-Out-Of-Sparring — sí o no?”_

_“… I did say that, but —”_

_“And, finally” — Lance’s other hand came down onto the couch, on the other side of Keith’s waist, effectively caging Keith in. And those aforementioned pretty eyes were now directly in front of Keith’s. A smug smirk could been seen as Lance leaned in, and that made Keith want to tackle him, want to push him right off this couch — “you’ve been a boss friend, Keith, but friends don’t stare at each other’s hot bods and handsome faces, verdad o falso?”_

_“You do that to Hunk all the time,” Keith said triumphantly, though his voice came out breathless. Which was both mortifying and annoying._

_“Uh, duh. Hunk’s a Hunk, or haven’t you noticed? But I don’t flirt with Hunk, and I don’t want to date Hunk, because he’s my best bro. Now, your turn.”_

_Lance had stopped encroaching on Keith’s space, and his smug expression faded into an uncertain smile. “Or I can go back to my room, you can wreck your back on this couch, and we forget that this ever —”_

_Keith closed the distance between them, one hand coming up to cradle Lance’s face while his lips pressed against the corner of Lance’s mouth. So soft … He pulled back quickly, his flush spreading even further — it felt like all of his skin was on fire. Lance’s mouth had parted, his eyes wide, and Keith still had his hand on Lance’s face, his thumb stroking gently across his cheekbone, over a few sparse freckles Keith hadn’t known about until just that moment._

_“Um,” Lance began in a whisper. He cleared his throat, trying again in a slightly louder tone, “Does this mean I can start planning that date?”_

_A sharp pang in Keith’s chest. He had to tell the truth. He had to be responsible._

_“No. No, I’m sorry, Lance. I can’t. We can’t.” He took his hand away, crossing his arms._

_The hurt on Lance’s face came and went quickly. He sat back, one leg coming up onto the couch as his head tilted in question. “I am not sensing a flat rejection here. Right, so, you kissing me, that means I wasn’t wrong? You’re into me.”_

_“Yes,” Keith admitted, and here he grinned teasingly, even as the pain in his chest flared up. “Against my better judgment, yeah.”_

_Lance slapped his thigh playfully, and then sat up straight, flexing both his arms and sticking out his chest — the Blue Paladin definitely had some muscle definition on him. “Shut up, you’re thirsty as hell for me, don’t even lie. Caught you checking out the guns many times.”_

_Keith pulled his legs in so Lance could sit more comfortably. “Maybe, but that just means I’m not blind.”_

_“Wow, that’s … I feel like I’ve been a bad influence on you. I’m really digging that.”_

_Keith was having too much fun. This was too comfortable, too easy. “Lance. I … you know how important what we’re doing is.”_

_“It’s kinda in the job title — ‘Defenders of the Universe’ and all that.”_

_“We can’t do this while that’s going on,” Keith said firmly. “We need to put the destruction of the Galra Empire first. And after that’s over …_

 

_“We have no idea how long that will take, or even if … when we defeat them, you’ll still be — _”__

_“I will be.” Keith had no doubts about that, none. What he felt for Lance … He didn’t dare scrutinize it too closely, but there was no way to deny the depth and breadth of these feelings, or their steady, unwavering presence. “It’s not fair to you, though, so if you need to … If you want to keep … trying with other people …”_

_“Dude. Stop.” Lance breathed out slowly. “I flirt without thinking, but I haven’t been actually trying with anyone for … a long while. And I will keep not-trying because I’m pretty sure … Just, same for me, okay?”_

_Keith couldn’t hold back the smile then, but Lance, Lance was frowning still, eyes boring into his. “Are you sure about this, Red? Listen, I’m okay with starting as slow as you need to, glacial pace — _ _”___

_“The risks are too high, Lance, and it would be too distracting — _”__

_“Any more distracting than it already is?” Lance argued. “Because I’ll be real with you, I zone out thinking about you way more than I should. You do not want to know how many times Blue has covered for me — _ _”___

_Probably about as many as Red had saved his butt from danger when Lance was too prevalent on his mind, Keith thought grimly. But that didn’t dissuade him. “No, it would get worse if we were … Please — _”__

_“Okay, okay, I’m done.” Lance sighed. He leaned even further back, but one hand came up to rest on Keith’s leg, squeezing gently. “As long as you get that if you ever change your mind, I’m here. Like, in a heartbeat. You have my full permission to barge into my room unannounced, onto the training deck when I’m using it, or hell, even in the shower while I — _”__

_“Got it! I got it, thanks,” Keith cut him off, the burning blush back. “I’ll … keep that in mind.”_

_Lance grinned suddenly. “And just … knowing that you feel the same way is a huge relief. So I’m gonna take that win.”_

 

_He had stood up then, bouncing off the couch, walking past Keith. He paused and reached out with one hand, stroking through Keith’s black hair. The Red Paladin tilted his head up, watching Lance with wary eyes._

_The Blue Paladin just smiled back kindly. “I think you’re wrong, you know? But I want you to come to me when you’re really, truly ready for this, and not a second sooner. So be wrong for as long as it takes you to feel right about this.” With one last affectionate tug on Keith’s hair, he left._

_The Red Paladin looked out into the vast reaches of space, alone._

There was something wet on Keith’s face. It wasn’t tears.

 

He blinked, eyelashes clumping together as _raindrops_ were caught in them.

 

_Raindrops._

“Rain, it’s _raining,_ Lance, holy shit.” He stuck a hand out, the dark grey and indigo clouds unleashing a torrent of water, cool and fresh on his dusty, overheated skin. Keith leaned out of the cave entrance, his head tilted back to catch the drops on his tongue. The rain catchers outside of the cave were full in short order, and Keith tasted nothing in his mouth but cold relief.

 

And this, this could save them. This could save _Lance._

He moved out from beneath the Blue Paladin, pulling him into the downpour. As soon as the water touched him, Lance moaned, started shivering. Keith ignored this, sitting down on the ground and gathering Lance into him again, letting him lean against his chest, his head tilted back, the rain falling onto his feverish body.

 

“Please, Lance, wake up. Look, it’s _actual rain._ ”

 

Lance's eyes seemed restless beneath his closed lids, still not opening. Keith buried his face in his soaking hair, the contrast between the cold desert rain and Lance’s overheated body making him feel ill. “Lance, _please._ ”

 

After their talk on the Castle, after Keith had pushed him away, promised more later, Lance sometimes settled back into their more antagonistic rivalry; jamming at Keith’s buttons, annoying him at almost every turn, bragging and arguing over the _dumbest_ things … And maybe Lance did it as a bit of selfish revenge, but it also made it easier for Keith to hide, easier for Keith to cope, and even when he wanted to punch Lance in the face, he was _grateful_ that Lance, in all his self-centred, petty glory, was _there._

 

Keith refused to go inside. He sat in a growing puddle, staring up as lightning dashed between clouds. They were both shivering, both drenched, and Keith had no idea how long this storm would last — the rain was merciless, pounding into sand and dirt, causing small rivers and creeks to form, cleansing everything …

 

“Why … are we out … here?”

 

Keith’s head snapped up, and he craned his neck around to look at Lance’s face. Bleary blue eyes stared back him.

 

“Keith, you’re crazy … Get us inside, this … is nuts.”

 

“Would’ve thought you wanted to hang out in the rain more,” Keith choked out. There were warm streaks of water on his face, but the rain did him the favour of making his tears indistinguishable.

 

“Yeah, but, cold, now.” Lance punctuated this statement with a shiver. “ _Carajo,_ but I’m sore. What … where …”

 

He still sounded dazed, and he still felt too warm … But he was semi-coherent. Keith breathed in deeply, feeling something in him uncoil, stretching out and losing its tension.

 

“C’mon, let’s … get you some food and water. And then sleep.”

 

Lance looked confused by all of this, but he let Keith carry him back inside with no protest. It required effort on the Blue Paladin’s part to chew and swallow down cacti innards and the weird canned rations, but he did it. He also chugged a whole canteen’s worth of water. Keith left him tucked into the bedroll while he went outside the cave again to bring in the rain catchers. They were overflowing, and he carefully poured them into the canteens, into the pot, before putting them back in their cradles — the rain continued to fall, albeit not as hard.

 

When he got back to the fire, it had burned down to embers, and Lance was fast asleep.

 

Keith took out his computer, and breathed a massive sigh of relief — Lance’s temperature had dropped to 37.9°C. Still feverish, but safer.

 

When Keith stretched out next to him, he put a hand over Lance’s chest, the unnatural warmth far more bearable, the steady beat of his heart far more comforting, and the gentle drizzle of rain the best lullaby Keith had heard in a long, long time.

 

******

 

“We gotta go back to the ship.” Lance sipped at the water, wincing as Keith re-bandaged his wound with freshly boiled, disinfected cloths. “We need to see if there’s anything we can use to contact the Castle.”

 

“You remember what happened, right? The _explosion?_ ” Keith asked, and he wasn’t saying it to be sarcastic (or, well, not _just_ to be sarcastic), as he wasn’t sure how much Lance’s memory had been affected by the fever. “You remember that … what happened to the Galra? What _he did to them_?”

 

“Unlikely to forget,” Lance answered shortly, casting his gaze to the ground. “But what other choice is there?”

 

He hadn’t told Lance about the other aliens he’d seen in the desert, the mass grave, and his suspicion that this planet was filled with others just like that guy at the crash site. But telling him now wouldn’t change anything.

 

“Seriously, we’re probably not going to find much other than scrap metal.”

 

“Then at least we’ll know, and we can move on from there …” Lance sighed, rubbing at his temples. “Listen, if even the tiniest Galra communicator survived, we might be able to do something with it. I’m not great at that stuff, not like Hunk and Pidge, but maybe … Just, please, indulge me, okay?”

 

Keith exhaled slowly. “Fine. Let’s pack up and head out then. We’ll go to the crash site first, and then … Keep going until we find whatever city or town is closest. These people have to be living somewhere, and we cannot last out in this desert forever.”

 

Lance nodded, glancing down at his freshly bandaged arm. “Thanks, by the way. I don’t remember much of the last couple of days … I’m sorry you were on your own.”

 

“I mean, really, you were right here, just not getting in my way — best of both worlds, actually,” Keith said nonchalantly.

 

Lance punched him in the shoulder, flashing a bright grin, and Keith smiled back and _holy crap,_ he had _missed this._ Missed Lance. The terror of losing him hadn’t quite left Keith, and every smile, every word out of Lance’s mouth, every flash of those blue eyes … He took in a deep breath and made himself concentrate on things to do with survival and _not_ with his stupid, uncontrollable _feelings_.

 

“We’ve got plenty of water — let’s take all of it. There’s fruit near the hills, and the cacti are a decent source of hydration and food. I think we can last for a bit until we find somewhere to sleep.” He began packing up as he spoke, and it was pretty fast going; there really wasn't much to bring. In short order, he had canteens tied to his belt, and the bag filled with everything else, including more bandages, just in case.

 

Lance stood up, his legs trembling only slightly. “Right. Do you know which way?”

 

Keith nodded. “Been plotting out this area using the computer. Stay close. Keep your bayard at the ready. Are you good to shoot?”

 

“I am _excellent_ to shoot,” Lance said with his usual bravado. “That should never even be a question.”

 

“You were unconscious with fever for almost three days.” Keith tried to be casual about this as they struck out into the hot desert sun. The air smelled slightly damp still, a softer, cooler edge to the breeze. “I’m surprised you even know your own name.”

 

Lance came up next to Keith, his hand subtly brushing again the Red Paladin’s — he briefly tangled their fingers together before letting go and saying, “Hey, remember that time you nearly drowned in that muddy river back on … Ruluv? Yeah, and you caught those parasites? Pidge wanted to dissect you to study the worms … I’m pretty sure you were out for the count for like, _a week._ ”

 

Keith rolled his eyes. “Not even comparable — I was in a healing pod. You were on a dirt floor with no antibiotics or meds whatsoever.”

 

“I’m just saying that we’ve had worse and survived it. We’re going to be fine — in fact, we’re gonna be _better than fine._ We’ll have the most _badass_ survival story of _anyone_ on the team. Except maybe Shiro, but, like, _no one_ can top that, so …”

 

“Shhh.” Keith jerked to halt, putting an arm out to stop Lance in his tracks.

 

They could just make out the charred remnants of the ship from where they stood … And they seemed significantly … less. There was movement in and around it, so Keith silently indicated to Lance that they dart behind a few rocks, similar to what they had done the first night. They moved up in a well-coordinated, stealthy approach, keeping their eyes on figures that became more distinct as they came closer.

 

Lance already had his rifle out. Keith had his sword clutched tightly in hand as they finally got near enough to hear what was going on.

 

“ … If we don’t find something, Jorlack is gonna have our _heads._ He’s pissed as hell that nearly everyone else got here before we did …”

 

“Not our fault!” An alien with massively muscular arms and legs tossed some scrap metal around. “Akros was already out here when it happened …”

 

“And he would have destroyed us,” said a smaller, more lithe alien — he had insect-like features, but his arms and legs were covered in a light smattering of fur.

 

The taller alien made a scoffing sound. “If I had known, I would have beaten — wait.”

 

Lance and Keith both tensed up further, bringing up their weapons.

 

“Did you hear …”

 

A speeder. Keith heard it, and he turned to Lance, shaking his head — no, they shouldn’t move. They should wait and see what was about to happen, see who was approaching. Keith knew that the murderous alien from that night (mostly like this Akros the others were speaking of) likely had no reason to return, but fear froze the Red Paladin’s limbs regardless. Keith didn’t think they could stand against him in peak condition _,_ let alone weakened as they currently were.

 

But the person who came roaring up on the speeder wasn’t Akros. This alien was bigger, six sinuously muscled arms working to drive the vehicle, holding a few empty leather satchels, grasping a large, stone-looking staff. He had pale green skin, and silver hair, pulled back in a long braid, the top of his head balding.

 

He seemed … frail, compared to the others who were all gathering together, holding guns and swords. They stared suspiciously at the intruder who climbed out of the speeder with a little difficulty, an easy smile on his face.

 

“Yathir, you need to back off,” said the one who appeared to be in charge. “What’s left is ours to claim.”

 

“I’m not here to take anything of interest to you,” this Yathir replied, sounding mild and considerate. “In fact, I was fairly sure everyone had already claimed his or her share of the goods. I only came to gather up some scraps to patch my roof. Good metal shingles are hard to come by. You can relax, Ithor.”

 

Ithor scowled, the scales on his face rippling. “Don’t care. Back the hell off, old man.”

 

Yathir raised three of his six arms. “Be reasonable, Ithor — these bones of mine aren’t much competition for someone as young and spry as yourself. I’ll grab my scrap metal and be away before you know it.”

 

The older alien turned, and Ithor raised his gun in threat. “Fine. Don’t care how old you are, be _fast._ ”

 

One of the others grabbed Ithor’s gun arm, dragging him … much closer to Lance and Keith, who flattened themselves to the ground behind their rock, staring into each other’s wide eyes, hardly daring to breathe.

 

“Yathir isn’t someone to mess around with, you moron,” hissed the other alien — a female, perhaps. “He runs that place in Dagos, and no one fucks around there because he’s _dangerous._ ”

 

“He’s an old man past his prime,” Ithor grunted out. “Don’t get what the fuss is about.”

 

“Just don’t mess with him, and he won’t mess with us.” She seemed frustrated. “This is why Jorlack doesn’t trust you with shit, you’re too stupid to know when you’re beat.”

 

“You know what, Gyiu, _fuck Jorlack!_ ” Ithor exploded. “ _Fucking giving everyone a pay hike but me and the new grunts — I’ve been working for his ass for a year and all I get is —”_

A loud crash. Keith dared to peek out around the side of the rock — Yathir had pulled a piece of metal out and collapsed the last upright part of the ship. Keith flicked his eyes over to Ithor — standing way, _way too close_ — and he looked _irate._ For no reason, no provocation whatsoever, he raised his gun, taking aim at Yathir’s back …

 

Keith couldn’t let that happen, couldn’t stand by and watch someone die in this nonsensical way.

 

He launched himself at Ithor, his sword stabbing down into the huge alien’s back. Ithor shrieked a garbled curse, and his companion, Gyiu, whipped up her shotgun — but a laser blast knocked her off her feet. Lance was perched on top of the rock, grimacing as five more aliens appeared, not including Yathir, who whipped around, his eyes narrowing at the scene.

 

Chaos broke out.

 

Keith swerved around Ithor’s flailing limbs, stabbing again — this time his sword plunged into a bunch of muscles in the alien’s side, sending Ithor to one knee. Lance leapt off the rock, pouncing down with supreme force, crushing Ithor beneath his weight. Keith lunged past Lance to Gyiu, who had been sitting up, ready to fire on them. His blade knocked the gun from her hand and then plunged down into her stomach.

 

Lance cried out, clutching his injured shoulder after another alien rushed him, and seeing a wound already on the Blue Paladin, struck a hard blow with the blunt of his blade against the injury. Keith tried to get to Lance, but another opponent grabbed him by the belt — the canteens attached ripped off, spilling onto the desert floor — and jerked Keith back.

 

The alien Lance was fighting had feet that closely resembled human hands — except sharply clawed. One of those feet came up, scraping a fresh line of blood across the part of Lance's thigh that wasn't armoured, but Lance had managed to weave past the blow, and so the claws didn’t fully sink into his flesh. Instead, Lance got his rifle up and fired once, ending that fight quickly.

 

The Paladins looked up at each other — and then cast their gazes over to Yathir.

 

The alien had two dead opponents at his feet, but a knife protruded from his gut as he attempted to ward off another. Even so, his staff struck terrifyingly forcefully, sending the wolf-looking alien to the ground. Yathir gripped his weapon in only one hand, punching down with a sickening crunch, caving in the alien’s skull.

 

Silence reigned.

 

Yathir sat down abruptly, examining the knife with a sort of disappointed air. “Poisoned. Unfortunate.”

 

Keith stumbled into Lance, staring at the blood-soaked bandages on his shoulder. “Shit, we need to look at that again —”

 

“Keith, no, it's fine. Most of the water is gone. We still have some food in the pack, and the spile … Maybe we’re good for another few days, but we gotta save stuff.”

 

“Except that we really need to treat that wound,” Keith insisted stubbornly.

 

“We brought some bandages,” Lance said, walking back towards the bag Keith had been carrying. “But I’m not the one who needs them right now.”

 

He dragged the bag out from behind the rock, and strolled right past Keith towards Yathir. Keith immediately followed, his sword still out even though Lance had sheathed his bayard.

 

“Sorry, um, Yathir,” Lance apologized, dropping to his knees next to him. “We don’t have … much of anything, really. But …” Lance rummaged through the bag, pulling out another canteen and the bandages. “These will help, hopefully. Um, not sure how much danger you’re in. You mentioned poison?”

 

“It isn’t lethal to me, just inconvenient — will take longer to heal,” Yathir explained, his sharp eyes flicking back and forth between Lance and Keith. The Red Paladin knew that he and Lance must look nothing like the others on this planet.

 

Not only that, but their armour was out of place. Their weapons were far too advanced, from what they’d seen so far. And Keith was glad, from a practical standpoint, that none of the others had survived this encounter — he didn’t need them spreading tales about the two aliens with crazy technology. He knew, instinctually, in this place that would be _bad._

Keith met Yathir’s gaze calmly, and he considered, however much it impugned his sense of morality, if he and Lance should just leave this alien here. Steal his speeder and go … wherever.

 

Lance possibly sensed his line of thought because he lifted his head from inspecting Yathir’s wound, his blue eyes narrowed. “Keith, you wanna stand watch, that’s cool, but maybe face out towards where the _real threats_ might be coming.”

 

Lance looked back at Yathir, who watched him with interest and an arched silver eyebrow. “Sorry, my friend is really, really paranoid.”

 

“He may be the wiser of the two of you,” the alien said bluntly. “What are you doing?”

 

“Helping you,” Lance replied without hesitation. “I’m on the mend, I think. You might not last. Now, hold on, I’m going to get this knife out. One, two —” He yanked, the knife sliding out easily, coated with dark green blood, and Yathir hardly flinched. Lance’s mouth dropped open. “ _Badass._ Okay, um, will water help?”

 

“It’ll clear some of the poison out,” Yathir allowed. “I can —”

 

“No, I got this, you relax. You were just going about your business, and that Ithor jackass was totally going to shoot you in the back for it. Douchebag.”

 

Keith saw Lance’s hands tremble a little as he carefully poured water into the stab wound. He was still weak from the fever, but Keith knew it was more likely that the deaths he’d caused had just settled in his mind … He hated watching Lance kill. Keith felt that cold part of him rise up each time, yearning to fight his way through the entire Galran army, in part so that the Blue Paladin never had to raise a gun again, for all that he was a stellar sharpshooter.

 

It was stupid, cheesy, and definitely wrong in some way … But he couldn’t control his instinctual responses to Lance. Not when they were bitter rivals, not when they became friendly competitors, and especially now that they were …

 

“Keith, buddy, you okay over there? You’re doing that deadeye stare thing. It’s creepy.”

 

He inhaled sharply. “Sorry. And lemme get some of the food … Yathir, can you eat … um, whatever these plants are called? On our planet, they’re _cacti_.”

 

Keith indicated one of them, and Yathir cocked his head, blinking slowly. “They are edible for most of us living here, as a last resort. _Yuk’lithqu_ is their name _._ ”

 

Keith was not even going to attempt to pronounce that. “I think you need some hydration. You lost a lot of blood.” He bent and reached into the bag, pulling some of the cacti innards out. “Here, chew on this while Lance bandages you up.”

 

Yathir took the food, and his sharp teeth made quick work of it. Keith stepped back to give Lance room, keeping one eye on the desert around them, glancing back down to the two on the ground occasionally. He noticed, suddenly, that none of the Galra corpses were there, not even charred remains of them. It was disturbing. It had only been a few days — surely those lizards couldn’t have eaten _all of them?_ And to not even leave bones behind?

 

Maybe when others came to scavenge, the corpses were also considered fair game. That … disgusted Keith on many levels. _What the hell was this place?_

 

“Yathir, this planet, what do you call it?”

 

The alien stared up at him. “No one calls it anything. We live here, and we survive. And you two … you are not from anywhere nearby. Jacomir and Rendfir are the two closest worlds … and those names mean nothing to you, I can see it in your eyes.”

 

Lance finished bandaging Yathir, sitting back and wiping at his forehead with shaking hands. “You’re right. Not much use trying to hide that. We crashed.”

 

“This was your ship?”

 

“Um, no? We were … involuntary passengers,” Lance said with a crooked grin. “But now we need to figure out how to get home. Is there a spaceport? An airport? Anything-port?”

 

“Yes, but only for the smugglers and the elite. It costs a great deal to leave. You will need your own ship, and that’s only the start.” Yathir seemed to be curious about them, but he refrained from doing anything other than answering their questions.

 

Keith didn’t know how he felt about that.

 

“What about communications?” Lance asked. “There must be a way to talk to the other planets, at least …”

 

“You really have no idea where you are,” Yathir mused, mostly to himself. “You’ve been in the desert since the crash?”

 

“And we’ll stay for as long as it takes to find somewhere with people,” Lance said cheerfully. “Water is a little rough, but the cacti seem to help. And food … can wait, I guess.”

 

“You …” Yathir stopped speaking for a moment. “I need your help to stand, Lance, was it?”

 

“Sure was,” Lance confirmed, standing up and leaning against the melted hull of the ship. He stuck out a hand and glanced over at Keith. “C’mon, dude, gimmie a hand.”

 

Keith reluctantly put away his sword and walked over to Yathir’s other side. Once the alien was on his feet, he was a full two heads taller than Lance, and Keith felt nothing but firm muscle beneath his hands. The way he wielded that staff told Keith that Yathir had some serious strength in his arms. Right now, he was using the stone weapon as if it were a walking stick, leaning on it to try and keep the strain off his injured side.

 

“Can you make it back all right?” Lance asked, looking genuinely concerned.

 

Yathir made a soft noise — almost like a _scoff,_ but Keith wasn’t sure — and said, “Yes. And you’re both coming with me.”

 

Instantly, instinctually, Keith said, “No, we couldn’t —“

 

“I mean, I wouldn’t turn down a ride to the nearest town,” Lance broke in, giving Keith a look that managed to express both annoyance and pleading.

 

“The nearest town is Dagos, about a half hour ride in that direction.” Yathir pointed with his right upper arm. The other arms were busy securing what little scrap metal he’d managed to gather before Ithor had attempted to shoot him. “And we’ll leave together.”

 

Lance stared at some of the scrap metal at their feet and gave Keith another look. The Red Paladin grimaced, but he understood Lance’s meaning — he picked up a few heavy pieces of broken hull, dragging them over to the speeder. Yathir accepted them without comment, using one of his arms to help Keith toss them into the back and then tie them down, while his other hands were occupied with starting up the vehicle and clearing out space for Lance and Keith to sit.

 

Keith stood, clutching his bag, staring at Lance, and wondering if maybe it was worth the risk. But if the town was only a day or so walk away … “We can’t, we shouldn’t — we’ve been doing fine so far. The lizards only eat the dead, and the rainstorm didn’t do anything other than help us. And that Ithor guy was … relatively easy to deal with.“ Keith knew he was bluffing a bit, but he couldn’t just go with this stranger, with someone from this planet who killed as easily as the others did.

 

“You’re not going to last for long out here,” Yathir said, and it wasn’t said cruelly, merely matter-of-factly. “Ithor and his ilk are some of the milder sort.”

 

Akros flashed in Keith’s mind, and in his ears echoed the _crunch_ of a knee being ground into pulp … Lance grew paler and clearly the same memory was playing in his head. Then the Blue Paladin visibly shook himself free of the fear, walking forward to help Yathir finish tying off the metal. But Yathir gently held him back, even while leaning heavily on his staff.

 

“Lance, your arm is bleeding again. You’ll both be staying at my inn, and that can be your base until you get passage off-world.”

 

Keith stepped in closer to Lance to inspect the wound again, even as he explained, “We can’t pay you, and we can’t be in debt, not when —“

 

“No debt,” Yathir interrupted. “You pay when you can.” He pulled himself into the speeder, indicating the backseat with one of his hands. “The desert will not be forgiving — you’ve been lucky that all you’ve encountered are carrion-eaters and rainstorms.”

 

Ultimately, Keith knew Yathir was right. Lance had been suspiciously silent the last few minutes, meaning he probably also agreed with Yathir. And that his exhaustion had caught up with him. He’d almost died of a fever less than a day ago, and he still felt unnaturally warm. The wound bled, and when Keith lifted the bandage, he saw that it had healed a little, though it was still raw in the middle. Lance said nothing, resting more of his weight against Keith.

 

“We’ll take the ride into town,” Keith conceded. He gave Lance a hand to help him into the vehicle, and Lance didn’t even pretend to protest or joke about chivalry — which had the Red Paladin treading that well-worn path in his mind of anxiety over Lance’s health.

 

As soon as they were both seated and strapped in, Yathir took off — the speeder zoomed fast enough to make it difficult to see past the wind blowing in their faces, but Keith could make out the tiny town, nestled amongst the foothills of another mountain.

 

Yathir slowed down as he drove past a few crumbling buildings, a couple of corrals containing large beasts Keith only caught a glimpse of — they looked a bit like llamas? — and a bunch of parked hovertrucks and landspeeders. The few aliens milling about glanced up at them as they sped along. Keith saw the way everyone made the same gesture — to reflexively rest their hands or claws on whatever guns or knives they had strapped to their person.

 

Keith squeezed his bayard grip tightly.

 

By the time they arrived at the inn, Lance had fallen asleep on Keith’s shoulder. And Keith did his best to gather the long-limbed Paladin into his arms, stepping down from the speeder with Lance hardly moving or making a sound.

 

The inn was a three-storey, ramshackle building, but fairly well kept despite how weather-beaten the wooden frame seemed to be.

 

Yathir left the door open as Keith carried Lance in; the first floor was a bar, empty for the moment, and when Yathir pointed up the stairs, Keith grit his teeth and readjusted his grip on Lance.

 

“There’s a large room, with a decent sized bed —”

 

“No, we need … If you have a room with two beds, whatever would be cheapest —”

 

Yathir sighed. “Is stubbornness a basic quality of your species?”

 

“Possibly?” Keith chose to omit the fact that he wasn’t strictly human.

 

The alien took a left on the second landing, heading down a narrow hall to the second last room, opening the door and stepping aside to let Keith in.

 

The room was little more than half the size of his room on the Castle. Two narrow beds were tucked in, separated by a nightstand, and with small chests at the foot of each. The window over the stand looked out towards the nearby mountain base, so there wasn’t much of a view, not that Keith cared one way or the other.

 

He tipped Lance carefully onto the bed on the right. The Blue Paladin curled up, his eyes fluttering open, and a small smile appearing when he caught sight of Keith hovering over him.

 

“Hey man, you should get some sleep.” Lance’s voice was hoarse, almost non-existent. “Or maybe a shower. Shower-sleep.” And he drifted off.

 

Yathir stood behind Keith; his instincts seemed to have switched up, trusting this older (how much older, he didn’t know, but he seemed pretty weathered) alien — Keith didn’t feel a tingling across the back of his neck like he usually did when strangers got too close him.

 

“There’s a bathroom on this floor. I’d like to point out that the original room I offered you has its own, but obviously you’re not interested. I’ll lay out some towels for you, and for him. I’ll send up some food in an hour.”

 

Keith took his eyes off Lance for long enough to glance back at Yathir and say, with all sincerity, “Thank you.”

 

Yathir stared at him for long time, and Keith held his gaze, unblinking.

 

“You two are more alien here than you realize. Rarities. That means there’s worth to you, and many who would seek to take advantage of that. I’ll tell you that I’m not one of them, but I know you won’t believe me until enough time has passed and I’ve proven to be trustworthy.”

 

Keith could only nod.

 

“Then if I managed to at least garner a small portion of that trust — rest for today. Clean yourselves, eat, and sleep. Tomorrow begins the work.”

 

Yathir left Keith standing in a tiny room of a small wooden inn, and Keith was too tired to even think past the advice given to him — shower, food, sleep.

 

After both he and Lance collapsed onto their respective beds two hours later, cleaned up, well-fed, and exhausted beyond measure, Keith’s eyes refused to close until Lance fell asleep again, his breathing even. It took at least an hour more for his mind to shut down completely, for him to be able to ignore the siren call that was Lance’s warm skin from just a scant couple of feet away …

 

… And maybe tomorrow that was a part of the work that Keith would begin. Because he was too tired to remember the reasons why he couldn’t crawl into that bed right now, and keep a better watch over Lance, keep him close, keep him safe …

 

******

 

There were clothes laid out for them the next morning.

 

Keith had no idea how long the days were here, but they felt pretty close to the ones back on Earth — meaning that he and Lance had slept for almost sixteen or eighteen hours. Straight.

 

When he sat up, he saw, at the bottom of his bed, a set of loose leather pants, a light grey shirt, and black boots that had a few holes. A glance over at Lance revealed a similar set of attire laid out — dark cloth pants, a white shirt with several patches, and a set of worn out grey boots.

 

Yathir was too generous. Keith was beginning to think there would be no way to repay the alien. But they were damn well going to try.

 

“Wha' time izzit?” Lance mumbled, his blue eyes watching Keith from beneath heavy lids.

 

“Don’t know, but the sun’s up, and we should head downstairs. We need to start figuring out what the hell we’re going to do.”

 

The Blue Paladin stretched, and Keith had sort of forgotten that they’d gone to bed in nothing but their shorts … He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the brown skin that peeked out from beneath crumpled sheets — skin that was increasingly exposed as Lance twisted and arched, the blankets falling further down with each motion.

 

Keith sucked in a breath and redirected his gaze to Lance’s injury, ignoring the soft noises of the Blue Paladin waking up fully.

 

The bandage on his shoulder was a stark white, and no fresh blood appeared on it. Bruises littered his ribs, his arms — everywhere Keith could see — but Lance didn’t appear to be in pain. He sat up, swinging his legs to the floor, grinning at Keith. He pointed down towards Keith’s own feet as he mirrored Lance’s posture.

 

“Dude. These are cowboy boots. Like, this is a planet, with _cowboy boots._ And we’re in, like, _ye olde inn_. And did you see some of those old-school guns? Tell me we didn’t luck out!”

 

“We didn’t luck out,” Keith replied automatically. “We’re on a world with bloodthirsty killers and crooks, it looks like. Our only piece of luck is Yathir. I think that’s about all we’re gonna get.”

 

“Right, good to know you’re all set to see the glass as totally empty — knocked out of your hands, broken on the floor, ready to cut your feet to shreds on the pieces.” Lance punctuated his words with expansive hand gestures and eye rolls.

 

Keith tried not to smile, keeping his face expressionless. “While you go ahead and chug the full glass only to realize it’s poison?”

 

“Wait, who’s poisoning me in this scenario?” Lance jabbed a finger in his direction. “Why do you always gotta take it too far, man?”

 

He stood up, miles of leg _way too close_ to Keith as Lance started pulling on the clothes provided for them. Keith jumped to do the same, trying to ignore the wash of natural heat that was Lance’s presence at his back. He snuck a quick scan with the computer while Lance used his reflection in the window to fuss with his hair. His temperature was 36.5°C. No more fever.

 

He tucked his computer away as Lance turned around — and then suddenly bolted past Keith, shouting, "You snooze, you lose, Red!"

 

Keith ran after him, never able to refuse a challenge. 

 

They ended up stumbling down the stairs together, and even with the weight of being stranded on their shoulders, they could still laugh. Keith felt his load lighten just looking at Lance, who was hopping onto a bar stool, giving a boisterous greeting to Yathir, thanking him profusely as a steaming plate of sweet porridge-like breakfast was served.

 

“Don’t just stand there. Eat up,” Yathir told Keith, his voice commanding, yet quiet.

 

Keith fell onto a stool next to Lance, taking a quick bite and moaning a little. “Holy crap. That’s _good._ ”

 

“Right?” Lance swallowed a huge mouthful. “Yathir, you’re some kind of fairy godmother or something, because, like, _magic._ How are you so cool?”

 

The alien stared at them with a somewhat incredulous smile. “Years of practise. And while I appreciate your better spirits this morning, I need to be clear about a few things. I'm sorry to burden you so early, but I feel like you wouldn't want to delay. Getting off this planet … it will be a long time coming.”

 

Keith ate his food a touch slower now, nodding at Yathir. “Tell us everything.”

 

Yathir spread two of his six hands on the counter. “This place is not governed. We’ve nothing over us, no rules exist beyond unspoken guidelines … People leave by way of illegally obtained transports, codes that unlock the shields, and false identifications that get you past Jacomir’s imposed sanction on this place. Because not a single one of the planets close by wants anybody from _here_ on their world.”

 

Lance blinked. “That’s … what even … how …”

 

Yathir leaned back to pour them some water. “There’s a long history lesson that isn’t relevant. You need to earn gems. Gems like these.” He put a white jewel on the counter. “They have multiple uses — powering lights, charging our devices, sources of heat — and they’re our currency. So if you want to leave, you need to earn as many of these as possible.”

 

Keith tilted his head back, trying to think about what Shiro would do, what he would ask in this situation. How would he handle this? Should they try to find their own way? Maybe sneak in and steal a ship? But then the fake IDs and the getting past Jacomir’s security …

 

“Hey, Yathir, anybody ever have a shoot-out in the streets here?” Lance asked out of nowhere.

 

Yathir raised both his eyebrows. “Yes. Why?”

 

Lance had started to grin. “Anybody, uh, like meet at high noon for a good old-fashioned duel?”

 

Keith groaned. “Lance, _seriously_?”

 

“It’s happened that there have been duels at appointed times,” Yathir said, watching Lance with amusement. “Is that common on your world as well?”

 

“It was, once upon a _cowboy time,_ ” Lance said giddily. “Keith, this is a _cowboy planet._ I was right, and I don’t care what you say, that’s pretty awesome.”

 

Except for the imminent threat of death from everything and everyone. But Lance seemed tickled pink by this idea, and he tipped an imaginary hat Keith’s way, his finger guns now accompanied by extra flair as he pretended to twirl his fake guns into his fake gun holsters.

 

And Keith started laughing despite himself when Lance let loose with the _worst Texan accent_ he had ever heard.

 

“Well, hey there, _stranger,_ what’s a fine piece like you doin’ in a joint like this one here?” Those damn waggling eyebrows were back.

 

Keith tried to regain his focus, to go back to what he’d been thinking about before, about planning a way _out,_ but it was hard with Lance’s happy chatter about cowboys filling the morning-lit room.

 

So maybe Keith was daydreaming while staring at Lance. Maybe now he was thinking of how to re-initiate an old conversation they’d had back on the Castle months ago, wherein Keith had said no, and Lance had said he’d wait patiently … And maybe, finally, Keith didn’t want to wait anymore.

 

Shadows passed the windows. The sharp _thuds_ of heavy feet outside the door — which swung open, sunlight blocked by burly shapes. Keith snapped closer to Lance’s side, cursing himself for leaving his bayard upstairs.

 

A male alien, about Keith’s height, leathery skin of a dark, dark blue, and bright eyes of light green, stood in front of a group of large, intimidating brutes. He had no hair anywhere visible, and his hands were seven-fingered. He was stout, but muscular, and the guns on his hips were prominently displayed — intricately carved, very shiny. His clothes were neatly pressed but less ostentatious … So he knew where real value lived, Keith guessed, feeling like this was someone important.

 

Lance had spun around in his seat to meet the new arrivals, every muscle tensed up. Keith put a hand low on his back, trying to keep him calm.

 

“Hello, Jorlack,” Yathir said cordially. “I imagine you’re here to ask about what happened to your crew.”

 

“I know what happened to my crew.” Jorlack’s voice was a very low baritone, rumbling from deep within his barrel chest. “The question is who, exactly, is responsible.”

 

“We are,” Keith said. Yathir made a noise that Keith couldn’t interpret, but he didn’t care to analyze it right now. “And they attacked first.”

 

Growls and cursed mutterings from Jorlack’s hired muscle, but they were quickly silenced by a tilt of the alien’s head. He stared at Lance and Keith, an expression of mild surprise twisting his features.

 

“You’re rather scrawny to have taken them out all on your own.” His eyes flicked behind Keith to the bar, to Yathir, but Keith wouldn’t let him keep that theory going.

 

He pressed into Lance’s back once before pulling away and stepping right up to Jorlack, looking him dead in the eye. “We’re here. They’re not. Ithor was a stupid, temperamental lackey who didn’t know how to keep his trigger finger in line.”

 

A beat. Keith could hear Lance’s sharp intake of breath, and then the Blue Paladin was backing him up, moving to stand at Keith’s elbow.

 

“He didn’t give us a choice. I’d say we’re sorry, but you don’t seem all that broken up about it.” Lance’s hands formed into fists at his sides, shaking noticeably.

 

“Ithor was exactly that, and no, not sorry that his incompetence is no longer on my payroll.” Jorlack stepped back and around Lance and Keith, sitting on the stool Lance had just vacated. “However, Ithor and a few of his cohorts were in debt. They were working off that debt. And now, they are dead. The debt still stands.”

 

Keith shrugged. “That isn’t our problem.”

 

Yathir put a drink on the counter, which Jorlack accepted without turning around to face him. “Ah, but you see, it is. Debts are paid in full to me. Always.”

 

“We don’t have anything to give you,” Lance said. “We don’t even own the clothes we’re wearing right now.”

 

“You can do what Ithor did — work for me for a time, pay it off. Clearly, you are more capable than he ever was. You’d be free and clear in a few months.”

 

A few _months_. “Doing what?” Keith spoke in a low tone. An execution in the desert, two sentient beings dead and no one there to mourn them or mark their graves. “We’re not killers for hire.”

 

“Everybody is a killer, but I wouldn’t say that would be your primary duty.” A sip of his drink and Jorlack was smiling — his teeth were very human-like in that they weren’t all that sharp, but somehow that smile was still extremely off-putting. “I’m one of the most straight-forward business owners on this rock. I don’t cheat. And I don’t bend my rules for anyone. If I say your contract is up in five months, it’s up in five months. You don’t have to be exclusive — you can earn whatever money you want on the side, in whatever ways you want …”

 

“Then that’s what we’ll do, _on our own_ ,” Keith said with finality. “We’ll make our way and pay you back. And then you leave us the hell alone.”

 

Lance nodded, crossing his arms. “Just tell us how much and how long we have. ‘Cause I’m guessing, in true stereotypical mob boss fashion, if we don’t pay you back by a certain time, you’ll kill us.”

 

“Correct,” Jorlack confirmed. “But I’m not unreasonable. I want my money, after all, no sense in burdening you with something unachievable. Ithor was worthless, and you may have done me a favour in getting rid of him — I’ll say that’s enough knock your debt down to … Five hundred gems. Fifty days from now.”

 

“I don’t suppose there’s any negotiating here,” Keith said quietly, trying to keep his shoulders straight, to keep them from sagging in exhaustion. Apparently sixteen hours of sleep wasn’t enough.

 

“You don’t have anything to negotiate with,” Jorlack said, and then he waved at his men over Keith and Lance’s shoulders. The bodyguards left, closing the door behind them. Jorlack rested his hands on his pistol grips, his eyes sharply evaluating them, more blatantly than he had upon first entering. “You crashed here. You came from somewhere outside of this system. If your ship managed to penetrate the shields … But none of that matters now. Your ship is gone. You have no way to reach your people. You’re not anything here other than fresh meat. Your ship, had it survived intact, would have ended up in our hands, and you would be dried corpses, eaten by _kiusen._ ”

 

Keith wanted to argue, to defy him and his arrogance … But he couldn’t sense a lie in anything Jorlack was saying. Lance shivered once, and then wrapped one finger around Keith’s, away from Jorlack’s sight. Keith let him, tangling a few more of their fingers together.

 

“All that matters to me is that you pay your debt. I know you have nothing — your honesty is plain. But others wouldn’t believe it. And I need you alive to pay me. Once the debt is cleared, perhaps I can convince you to work for me in a more equal capacity.”

 

Keith wanted to crawl back into his skinny bed. Sleep for another twenty-four hours. Lance was all but draped over him by this point, his body trembling though he did his best to mask it.

 

“Thank you for the drink, Yathir.” A small glittering gem was left on the bar as Jorlack stood up, walking past Lance and Keith without a backward glance. “I’m based in Hutton. Yathir knows where. Find me when you’re ready to settle that debt.”

 

He disappeared out the door, leaving Lance and Keith alone. More alone than they’d ever been.

 

“You won’t be able to leave before that deadline comes up,” Yathir said softly. “And that, in addition to the amount of money you need to get out of here … You’ll be here for a good, long while.”

 

“Our friends are looking for us,” Lance spoke up at last. His blue eyes were focused, the trembling in his limbs ceased. “They’ll find us.”

 

“But we don’t know when.” Keith ran a hand through his hair. “Okay. Yathir. We need work. We need to work, and we need to earn our keep with you and pay Jorlack back. We’re going to need weapons — we can’t use our bayards. They’ll attract way too much attention, and the people here would hunt us down and kill us to get their hands on them …”

 

Lance pulled away from Keith, falling back onto a stool. He buried his face in his arms on the bar counter. Keith sat next to him, now hesitating to put his hand on his back, to stroke and console.

 

Because they didn’t have time for this. He’d been right on the Castle, all those months ago. It was too distracting. It wasn’t worth the risk. They needed all their attention on the task at hand — on surviving this hellhole and getting back to the Castle of Lions. To the real fight.

 

Lance picked his head up, glancing at Keith over the shelter of his arms. “I think I need to eat. And then Yathir can tell us what our options are. If we have any.”

 

“You do,” Yathir said, and he put a fresh bowl in front of Lance, steaming and smelling delicious. “You do, and I’ll promise you safety within these walls. It’s all I have to offer.”

 

“It’s too much … Thank you.” Keith slid his stool in a little closer to Lance’s, allowing both Lance and himself that small measure of comfort. “Who should we talk to first about work?”

 

“There’s a few people who will be willing to hire you on for some quick, low-paying contracts,” Yathir said, and he brought out a pocket computer fairly similar to the ones they had upstairs amongst their armour and bayards. “Bruil, Caspor, Gunthra … though Denna’s is the safest place to seek employment.”

 

“Where’s that?” Keith asked, nudging Lance’s knee with his own, trying to get him to pay attention since he'd gone back to hiding his face in his folded arms.

 

“It’s in Hutton, and Denna pays good, fair wages. No guns allowed inside her building, and nobody would dare cross her — it’s one of the few places in the five towns that not a single person has ever killed or maimed anyone in.”

 

Lance perked up. “Sounds ideal.”

 

“Of course, until you built up a regular client list, you wouldn’t be making much,” Yathir began.

 

“Client list?” Keith blinked. “Oh. Never mind.”

 

“What, why?” Lance demanded. “Seems great!”

 

“It’s a brothel,” Keith said bluntly.

 

“It’s a … Yathir, it’s a _brothel?!_ ”

 

“Denna’s Pleasure Lair — and yes, a brothel, but also a source of other entertainments, decent food —”

 

“Okay, no, it’s fine, thanks for the idea,” Lance hurried on to say. “Um, respect to the fine folks who work there, but we’ll … find another way.”

 

“And we’ll pay Jorlack back in no time.” Keith tried for confidence, tried to imitate Lance at his most arrogant. He must have fallen short since Lance just cast him a disbelieving look.

 

“I mean, we will, because the other option is getting shot dead and eaten by lizards,” Lance said _._ “But, uh, I’m not cool with killing people. Especially not like they do.”

 

“Of course we’re not becoming assassins,” Keith agreed. “We’ll set rules for ourselves, but for now, let’s get a handle on what we _can_ do.”

 

Yathir had been watching them talk, and he seemed … older, for a moment, hunched over and his head down to one side, lost in thought. But then he leaned in, a small smile on his lips. “You can head to Gunthra’s later this afternoon — if you know your way around hovervehicles, she needs people to help her repurpose and refurnish. Also, she has some stakes in the shipyards and smuggling ring. A good way to start investigating your way off world.”

 

“Excellent!” Lance was brightening up again. “Hunk taught me all kinds of hot-wiring tricks.”

 

“I’m pretty decent at that myself,” Keith said, feeling his own spirits lift.

 

“Of course you are, could you get anymore stereotypically bad boy?” Lance sighed, and then gave him a wink.

 

Even if Keith couldn’t bring himself to respond to the flirting this time (he wouldn’t do it the next time either, _this had to stop_ ), he felt the smile form on his face, felt his heart buoyed by the idea that the rest of the team was looking for them. And Team Voltron never gave up, so Lance and Keith? They were as good as found.

 

They just had to outlast this place. They had to fight to survive until a Castle floated in the skies above them … Or until they could fly out themselves to meet it.

 

In the meantime, Keith had Lance, and no, not in the way he wanted, but … No matter what happened, good or bad, from here on out (a soft, sinister whisper in his thoughts, _it will get worse, there’s worse coming and you know it_ ), Lance at his side meant that Keith had the best partner he could’ve asked for … (If he had to face death or worse, Lance gave him reasons to live, reasons to defend and stay his ground).

 

“Heads up, Keith.” Lance tossed him a soft pink fruit from a bowl on the counter.

 

Keith caught it, accepting a knife from Yathir so he could cut into it. “What else we got on the list for work?"

 

“Much more,” Yathir said. “I’m afraid you’ll need to do as much as you can, every day, some nights. Five hundred gems is a huge number.”

 

“Can’t stop, won’t stop!” Lance crowed. “Yathir, my man, Keith and me, we’ve had some gnarly adventures — we know what is to go and go and _go._ My boy here has some fierce stamina!”

 

Another leer, one that Keith met head-on with a smirk. He sucked some of the juices off the fruit and said, “That’s right. We’ve got this, Yathir. We’ve powered through some real bad stuff — not like we can hit the brakes now, anyway.”

 

“All aboard the Lance and Keith Express Back to Civilization!” Lance cheered, then winced. “Uh, no offense, Yathir.”

 

Yathir chuckled. “Civilization means different things to different people, Lance. I wish you and Keith will find your way back to yours.”

 

“We will,” Keith said, brooking no argument. He let his hand rest on Lance’s knee for a fraction of a second. “Me and Lance can do this.”

 

They launched into a discussion about the different kinds of jobs they’d be willing to try, the skills they could apply to these less than savoury contracts. Keith felt them careening over a precipice, little choice in their path, but he knew it ended with them _home._ Together and back on the Castle.

 

And just like he did when a flashing pair of blue eyes went from a source of irritation to the one thing he looked forward to seeing each and every morning … Keith felt himself falling off the edge of the map, no idea where or how it would end. But there was no going back now.

 

******

In the shuffling madness,  
Of the locomotive breath  
Runs the all time loser  
Headlong to his death.  
  
Oh, he feels the piston scraping  
Steam breaking on his brow  
  
Old Charlie stole the handle  
And the train, it won't stop going  
No way to slow down.

…

He hears the silence howling  
And catches angels as they fall  
And the all time winner  
Has got him by the balls  
  
Oh, he picks up Gideon's Bible  
Open at page one  
  
I thank God, he stole the handle  
And the train, it won't stop going  
No way to slow down. 

— _[Locomotive Breath,](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bNCT6pA5I9A) _ Jethro Tull

******

**Author's Note:**

> This part _kicked my ass so hard_. I just couldn’t seem to spit it out. All the thanks to **Brame** for suggesting a flashback to the conversation in which Keith and Lance confessed their feelings, but Keith ultimately decides that they can’t do anything about them yet. Hope that lived up to your expectations, honey!
> 
> And I really hope this didn’t suck too hard. For anyone that has been following this series, and assuming you’re still around to read this: y’all have been so great to me, and I want to give you something worthwhile to enjoy. I hope this was okay, and I thank you very much for all your amazingness :) 
> 
> **Edit Aug. 31/2017:** And here are some gorgeous storyboards created by **linipik**! Please have a look at these:  
> [Lance and Keith crash-landing,](http://linipik.tumblr.com/post/163538064349/part-1-part-2-part-3-they-were-taken-so) [Lance and Keith confessing their feelings,](http://linipik.tumblr.com/post/163538067564/part-1-part-2-part-3-they-were-taken-so) and lastly [Lance and Keith struggling to survive, and meeting Yathir](http://linipik.tumblr.com/post/163538071164/part-1-part-2-part-3-they-were-taken-so). And please also check out the series description, where I list a whole bunch of other amazing artwork done by some fantastic people for this 'verse :D
> 
> If anybody new is around: I hang around on [Tumblr](http://thisgirlhastales.tumblr.com/) sometimes, if you wanna find me there. I appreciate you stopping by! Comments are wonderful and helpful (please let me know if you spot any mistakes!), but regardless, if you've made it this far down, thank you for reading :D


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